


Broken Bodies in the Rubble

by tywinning



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/pseuds/tywinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally published on <a href="http://tywinning.tumblr.com/post/37777974344/sansa-digs-for-survivors-in-the-rubble-not">tumblr</a></p>
<p>Comments are lovely!</p></blockquote>





	Broken Bodies in the Rubble

Sansa digs for survivors in the rubble, not because she knows any one of these stable boys or serving girls, not even the highborn ladies who once sat beside her at table. She digs, until ashes blacken her brow and mix with the blood on her hands, desperately, like a mother looking for her lost children.

Isn’t a queen a mother to her people? Would a mother stand aside while others search, when every moment matters for the countless innocents pinned beneath unyielding stone?

So she digs. She exhumes only broken bodies from their graves.

It takes them three days to reach the Throne Room. Sansa cuts her arm, crawling over the debris, and, looking down, realizes it is a piece of the throne, no less malevolent for being in ruins.  _Not my throne_ , she thinks.  _Not mine._  The Realm looks to Winterfell now, to the old throne of the Kings of Winter.  _Of the Queen of Winter, now_. She keeps looking. 

A hand protrudes from beneath a pile of fallen timbers. Sansa takes it in both her own - with no tears left to shed, she has no other way to mourn, to show she cared for all of these nameless people who died - and she gasps when the warm fingers clasp her own.

“Lift these!” she calls out. Her men obey faster than a winter freeze, but they almost drop their burden at the horror beneath. The Little King hasn’t escaped after all, hasn’t fled to Essos as she has commanded. He is clutched tightly in his mother’s arms, the two of them crushed under what remains of the Iron Throne. _Tommen_ , she recalls from some other life.  _His name was Tommen. And hers Cersei_. Sansa mourns her too. She cannot help it.

Worse is the hand she holds, that holds onto her so tightly - the only one this man has. “Jaime Lannister.” One of them.

The beam that crushed his sister -  _and his son, as if it even matters now_  - had only pinned him.

“Lady Stark.” His voice is raw, his half-smile twisted into a grimace. “I was better off buried. Now you shall have to do it all over after you kill me.” 

But unlike so many others she has killed, this man, lying in a pool of Lannister blood like it were his own, this man wants to die. 

_When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to move him._  Sansa can hear Petyr’s words as if he is still alive and standing beside her. 

“No. I will not kill you,” and in that moment he becomes hers, just another piece she holds in her hand. “Get him to a maester.” No one questions her, just as no one questioned her father. They respect her too much for that, but she can hear them anyway.  _He is the enemy._  

But he isn’t. Not now. Not with the war that mattered over, and the war in which her father died already forgotten.

Now he is just another broken piece that she gathers up, while she tries to make herself whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on [tumblr](http://tywinning.tumblr.com/post/37777974344/sansa-digs-for-survivors-in-the-rubble-not)
> 
> Comments are lovely!


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